


broken records in a deaf man’s charade

by Lire_Casander



Series: nothing ever goes the right way [6]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Hostage Situations, M/M, Mentions of Original Child Character Death (Not In The Fic), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shooting, Shooting Guns, Suggestive Themes, Trauma, Triggered Reaction, Triggers, Violence, injuries, mentions of 9/11, mentions of trauma, mentions of triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26785696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: it happens on a wednesday
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Series: nothing ever goes the right way [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943992
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	broken records in a deaf man’s charade

**Author's Note:**

> written for @tarlosweek2020, **_day 6: favorite location + you deserve better + angst_**
> 
> written for anon who asked for **_hostage situation_** from my [bad things happen bingo card](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/post/626174763915722752/welcome-to-my-very-own-bad-things-happen-bingo)
> 
> beta’ed by [meloingly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meloingly/pseuds/meloingly). any remaining mistakes are my own. she has worked on this real fast since i kinda finished it like a few hours before having to post it for today's prompt!
> 
> title from _Strong Enough To Break_ by Hanson

It happens on a Wednesday.

The day starts like any other weekday so far. TK wakes up after the alarm, but not _because_ of it — he wakes up to the delicious smell of freshly-made coffee and the feeling of his boyfriendʼs hand shaking him off slumber. He groans. 

“I have today off,” he complains, throwing an arm over his eyes dramatically. “ _You_ have today off. Why are you waking me up at,” he briefly checks the clock from behind the fingers now covering his face, “a quarter to eight?” 

“It isn’t _my_ fault that _you_ decided to sign us up for Career Day at Widen Elementary School today of all days,” Carlos tells him, shucking a worn t-shirt his way to elicit some sort of response from TK. His boyfriend simply groans again and turns around. “Now, get up and go shower. You don't want to disappoint Mable Parkland, right?” 

TK sighs, defeated. He swings his feet off the side of the bed, and shifts all his weight on his arms, supporting him at each of his sides. He remembers distinctly promising Mable, the young daughter of one of Juddʼs old firefighter family, that he would attend Career Day at her school. She had asked Judd — after all she knows him more — but Judd had a volunteer thing to do. Ever since Michelle had left Austin with her mother and her sister — leaving TK to pick up the pieces of Carlosʼ broken heart when she announced they wouldn’t be coming back — Cowboy Judd had put to good use his knowledge of all medical stuff to go help outside his shifts. TK hadn't wanted to leave the girl hanging, so heʼd offered his help, and when he realized that Carlos also had the day off, he had signed his boyfriend up as well. 

He hadn’t realized he would have to wake up earlier than he usually does on his day off, when he can revel in the warm weight of Carlosʼ body next to his. 

“Iʼm up, Iʼm up!” he exclaims when another article of clothing he doesn’t want to recognize collides against his back. “Damn, you're eager this morning.” 

“Does that mean I am _not_ eager other mornings?” Carlos asks. When TK turns, he can see his boyfriend pouting adorably. 

He allows his eyes to roam over Carlosʼ body, wetting his lips meanwhile. His gaze halts right an inch below the already low sweatpants Carlos is wearing. His pupils quickly widen as he takes in the sight — the hips peeking over the waistband, the patch of hair trailing below his navel, and the bulge he can spy underneath the frayed fabric of the sweatpants. “Oh, I can see you’re _eager_ ,” he teases. “I think anyone in a mile around can _see_ it.”

Carlos blushes to the root of his hair, but he doesn’t lose his cool. He smiles coyly, but takes a step backward when TK tries to approach him.

“Hey!” TK protests. He steps forward, but Carlos manages to duck him laughing.

“The shower is over there!” Carlos tells him between laughs. 

“Aren’t you coming with me?” TK asks. He manages to grab Carlos’ arm and pulls him into a bone-crushing hug. “Ooof.”

Carlos hugs him back before attempting to steer him toward the shower. TK doesn’t let go, so they stumble upon the bed once again, a motion between Carlos’ haste to get ready and TK’s playfulness. TK pulls him down for a kiss, and since Carlos has never been able to deny TK anything, he complies. One kiss leads to another, deeper and messier, until they’re once again tangled between the sheets, still warm from the night before.

They don’t step into the shower until much, _much_ later.

* * *

They end up being late to Career Day at Widen Elementary School. It’s not that Carlos hadn’t known all along that it was going to happen, but it still surprises him when they check the clock and it’s half an hour later than the time they should have been entering the school.

“Thirty minutes is nothing,” TK waves it off, dragging Carlos around the halls as they walk at a fast pace to reach the classroom they’re assigned. “I bet they haven’t even noticed.”

“Mr. Strand? Mr. Reyes?” a voice surprises them, forcing them to slow down until they stop completely. When Carlos turns around, he sees a middle-aged woman — brown eyes, a few grey hairs, dressed in a pair of black trousers and a white blouse — who’s staring down at them sternly from above the rim of her glasses. “You are late.”

“And we are very, very sorry,” Carlos stammers. “We know the importance of being on time. It won’t happen again.”

“Are you planning on coming back for another Career Day?” the woman jabs, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I’m Principal Diana Matthews. You can call me Diana.”

“Carlos,” he introduces himself, and then gestures to TK. “And this is TK. Pleasure to meet you, and once again let me tell you how sorry we are.”

“It’s okay,” she finally smiles. “Career Day is always a crazy day at the school, and the first speaker we had invited has gone over time. She’s still inside talking about being a nurse at an ER room. The teacher in charge, Alana, must be going crazy inside.”

“It seems like you’ve had a morning full of first responders,” TK chirps. “I hope we can inspire these kids.”

Principle Matthews laughs openly. “It would seem so. Though I have to admit that I didn’t think it would be advisable to bring someone from the new 126,” she keeps on. “Don’t take it personally, please. It’s just that—”

“I understand,” TK saves her when she trails off. “Mable isn’t the only child in this school who lost someone that night. But I think it can be positive for them, in a way. They can hear what we do, and how we help, and maybe it can help _them_.”

She nods and clears her throat. “Well, how should Alana address you when I introduce you to the children?” Firefighter Strand? Officer Reyes?”

Carlos shakes his head before answering. “I’d rather be called just Carlos, please. I don’t want them to think police officers are these strangers who can’t be reached.”

“That’s actually thoughtful,” Principal Matthews agrees. “Why don’t I take you to the correct classroom and you can wait outside until Nurse Harris finishes her speech?” Without waiting for a reply, she leads them through the corridor until they reach a classroom with a glass door that’s labeled _308_. They can see a woman in her early thirties through the door, talking animatedly about something as she bounces in her white lab coat, while another woman, presumably Alana and a bit older than Nurse Harris, just looks over the students with a bored rictus on her face.

Carlos thinks they’re not ready for this session — they have been a little bit _preoccupied_ before hastily rushing to the school. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, suddenly nervous. TK brings a hand to the small of his back, a reassuring warmth that reminds Carlos that he’s not alone. 

He looks away from the glass door for a second, and he thinks he sees a shadow rounding a corner on the far end of the corridor. TK nudges him slightly, so he tries to pay more attention.

“I need to be somewhere else,” Principal Matthews informs them. “You can wait here. Once Nurse Harris is done, Alana will take you inside for your speeches. I assume you’re giving your presentations together?” They nod eagerly. “Good, then I’ll be on my way. Thank you for coming so selflessly.”

And with that Principal Matthews leaves them alone in the corridor, with the fainting sound of Nurse Harris inside the classroom and a strange feeling deep in Carlos’ gut.

* * *

It happens all of a sudden. TK doesn’t know how it begins, or when everything starts going down the drill; he only knows that it _does_. And when it does, he feels like he’s seven again, and a plane is crashing against a high tower and his father is away from home for days, and everything is covered in dust that he’s not sure whether or not actually comes from ashes.

One moment he’s just himself and the next he’s back to being terrified.

One moment they’re talking about the dangers of saving lives — the children amazed at TK’s tales while they side-eye Carlos because Carlos has the storytelling skills of a snail — and the next there are screams and a noise so loud that it rings in his ears. His reaction is almost instinctive; he covers himself just like he was taught at the Academy and rolls beneath a table, but Carlos rushes in front of the table along with Alana and coaxes the children to do exactly as TK has done, using him as an example. When he realizes what’s going on — that they’re most probably under some sort of attack — he feels ashamed that his first reaction has been saving himself instead of the children.

He opens his mouth to call Carlos, but no sound comes out. He clasps a hand over his lips, trembling in fear and what he feels is shock, but he can't be sure. TK doesn’t think what’s happening around them, but he doesn’t like the fact that whatever it is it’s making him regress to his childhood reactions to attacks.

“Stop thinking so loud,” Carlos says. TK doesn’t know how he can hear him over the ruckus that surrounds them. “Stay there. I’m going to see what’s going on.”

“Wait, don’t go anywhere!” TK finally finds his voice. “You don’t know if it’s safe.”

Carlos throws him a strange look before schooling his features. The kids have gone completely silent underneath his desks; when TK looks over them he can see their wide eyes fixed on them both — Carlos standing tall and TK crouched on the floor. He bites his lip as tears begin welling up in his eyes. He doesn’t like feeling this helpless, but when another _boom_ comes through the door, he flinches and turns into himself once again.

“TK?” he hears Carlos saying. “Are you okay?”

“I am,” he replies shakily. “Just— don’t go, please. We don’t know anything and—and it’s evident I’m in no shape to keep the kids safe,” he finishes in barely a thread of voice, a whisper against the soft hoodie he’s wearing — Carlos’ favorite, the yellow one he wore the night of their disastrous first date.

“Someone needs to assess the situation,” Carlos tells him patiently. TK wants to shake him. They’re in the middle of what feels like some sort of attack, and he knows he should be the one standing in front of the table, calming the children down with their teacher, while Carlos — the actual _police officer_ in this relationship — goes out and saves the day from the bad guys. TK’s job is a different one, even if it’s as important as Carlos’ — but he just doesn’t think he can do it.

He’s trembling under Carlos’ touch when his boyfriend’s hand touches his face. “TK,” Carlos says slowly. “I know this is hard for you, but I need to go.”

They have talked a lot these past months together — ever since they became official under the northern lights after the solar flares. TK has opened his soul to Carlos, and Carlos has completely trusted TK with his truth. Now both know each other’s weaknesses, and TK is mortified that his are showing up in a classroom full of eight-year-olds. 

He just can't help it. As a New Yorker, he lived through a traumatic experience at a really young age but he feels like a fraud — he wasn't even close to the towers, but he doesn’t think heʼll ever forget the sound of the people crying out for help or the noise an airplane makes when it cuts through glass. It's the same noise that heʼs hearing now — like something is breaking glass and exploding things. 

“Stay here,” Carlos instructs them all. “I will be back in no time.” 

TK nods. He can see, out of the corner of his eye, Alana nodding and the children pressing themselves harder against the legs of their desks. Carlos squares his shoulders and takes a few steps to the door. 

Before he can touch the knob, the door blasts open, and Carlos is thrown on his back against the teacher table with the force of it.

* * *

Carlos groans. He turns to his side, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His back hurts from the impact against the table, but he knows he needs to stand up. Whatever this is, he canʼt allow anything to happen to these kids and their teacher — to TK. Carlos is supposed to be the protector, the one to chase the bad away while TK is the caretaker, the one to heal what's broken. It’s the core of their relationship, the way they complement each other — two complete human beings forming a formidable symbiosis.

“Told you not to go out,” comes TKʼs voice from beneath the wooden surface that Carlos has mostly destroyed upon falling on it. He reaches out and offers his open palm; TK grabs his fingers and squeezes them tightly. “Iʼm okay,” he reassures Carlos. 

“Good,” he replies, looking over at where Alana is trying to stand up from behind the debris that's flown over when heʼs landed on the table. She offers him a tight smile before rushing to check on the children. 

The shout catches him with his guard down, still scanning the room to make sure everyone else is in one piece.

“Where's my son?” 

Carlos jumps to his feet, facing the door where he can now see a man — late thirties, ashes flying around his blond hair, green eyes wildly searching through the room before focusing on Carlos. He feels a chill crawling up his spine when he locks his gaze to the manʼs. 

It's like staring into a wildfire fueled by despair.

The man is holding a gun before him, like an extension of his arm. Carlos canʼt tell whether or not heʼs ever aimed a firearm at anyone or anything. What he can tell for sure is that the man looks positively bewildered — he knows for a fact that those are the worst, because they are unreadable and therefore there’s no way to foresee what they might do. 

“Where's my son?” the man repeats, the gun shaking in front of him. “Where is _he_?” 

Carlos notices that this intruder who's scaring the kids — some of them already hiccuping underneath their desks — is looking somewhere over Carlosʼ shoulder. He doesn’t want to turn his back on the man, so he quickly racks his mind about it. Behind him he only has TK and Alana. 

Alana. 

Since they have been late, they haven't had much time to talk to the teacher, but now it’s evident to him that this man has some sort of personal vendetta against her. 

“Peter,” she says, voice shaky. She takes a couple of steps forward, coming to a stop almost by Carlosʼ side. “Peter, heʼs not here. He’s gone.” 

Carlos understands a few things at the same time with that exchange of words. First, that Alana and this man — Peter — know each other. Second, that they have a child together. And third, and probably the most important of them all, that Peter isn’t in his right state of mind and therefore it's imperative that he — with TKʼs help, if he manages to be functional through these triggers — puts a stop to this nonsense. 

Carlos knows he has to move slowly. He doesn’t want to scare Peter off, for he doesn’t know how the man will react. So he takes a step toward Peter, only to be cut off by the gun being brandished right in front of his face. 

“Don't move!” Peter screams. Some kids whimper beneath their desks. Carlos can hear TK muttering under his breath, but he canʼt make out what his boyfriend is saying. Peter goes on a quick rant; Carlos starts to pick up cues from it — from his words, Carlos understands that Peter was deployed, and that he believes Alana is hiding their son, lying to Peter and telling him that the kid, Liam, is dead when Peter _knows_ he isn’t. 

Carlos only needs a glance back to Alana — to her paling face and the increasing trembling in her whole body — to know that she wasn't lying when she told Peter that Liam is gone. 

“I don't care if you're some doctor or teacher or whatever other thing with a hero complex. _I_ am a hero. I saved _you_ from those demons, and now _she_ won't let me see my son.” 

Carlos nods as though he's agreeing with him. They need a plan. And they need it now. 

He brings one hand to his back and hopes that TK understands.

* * *

TK watches as Carlos gestures behind his back. He’s signaling at his right, so TK understands he's trying to send a message about the kids, and then he's signaling up, so TK thinks he might want them all to go upstairs. 

Upstairs? 

TK stops paying attention to Carlos for a moment to focus on what Peter is saying. From what heʼs been able to gather, Peter and Alana know each other and they — always from what TKʼs mind is putting together — lost the son they had together. He’s sure that's a traumatic experience, one heʼs almost put his father through several times. That, combined with what Peter has said about being a hero, tells TK that he might not be in his best state of mind. 

Which never combines well with being the owner of one, or several, firearms. 

TKʼs grateful that they aren't wearing their uniforms today. For once in his life, his tendency to tardiness has paid out — they're now in a position where they can help without being a threat to the only person with a gun in the room. 

And then he understands Carlosʼ message — they need to take the children out of the classroom before things get out of hand. A situation like this, in his experience, always spirals out of control quickly. 

There are sirens that can be heard, faintly, in the distance. If Peter has come barrelling through the school, there's a fair chance that someone has alerted the police. And that can be good, but it can also be the worst that could happen — Carlos is the appointed negotiator in his precinct for all these situations due to his amazing skills to keep calm under duress, and the school is part of Carlos’ precinct’s district. If he’s inside, being part of the situation, then TK doesn’t know who’s outside. And he only trusts Carlos with his life.

“Peter, please,” Alana tries again. Her voice is barely a whisper, but it can be heard in the intense silence inside the room, only broken by the sirens approaching. “We can work this out. Please. There are children here. You don’t want to do this.”

There’s a hint of something flashing in Peter’s eyes, but it’s gone as soon as TK notices it. Peter lowers the gun, but it’s still aimed at Carlos; TK can’t risk moving now to try and tackle him because that would put Carlos at risk. Besides, Carlos hasn’t given any signs of wanting TK to do _anything_ , and right now TK feels like the only one who knows what he’s doing is, precisely, Carlos.

“If I can’t see my own son,” Peter says slowly, the gun still in his hand. “Then, _their_ parents won’t see them either. You,” he continues, aiming the gun to TK, who flinches. It’s the second time in his life that he’s been a target; the first one he wasn’t even conscious of it, but this time he can see the barrel and it’s terrifying. “You, help this hero and move that big table against the door. No one will go out, and nobody will get in. If anyone tries to come in, I will start shooting, have I made myself clear? I will shoot everyone here until I can see my son.”

“I’ve told you—” Alana tries to say, but Carlos cuts her with a jerky movement of the hand behind his back. 

TK gets up to his feet and shakes his fear off. It’s not that this situation they’re living through isn’t traumatic or violent, but it isn’t what he’s triggered by — at least not _yet_. He can do this. Maybe Carlos has a plan they can discuss somehow while moving the table against the door, which has shattered hinges and is hanging on by sheer luck.

Alana stays behind, diverting her attention to the kids and telling them that everything will turn out fine in the end. TK knows children these days go through drills for these kinds of things, but he’s still amazed at how collected they seem — they are eight and they’re reacting quite better than he has. Such an example he’s giving. Before he tears his gaze away from the bunch of kids, Mable catches his eye. She’s crouched underneath her desk, but she manages to smile at him. It’s a gesture that reaches his heart and warms it — it gives him strength to move forward and stand next to Carlos.

These children need them — Carlos and TK, TK and Carlos — to protect them. He’s not going to disappoint them.

* * *

Carlos feels comforted when TK takes position next to him. It’s probably a silly feeling to have when he knows his boyfriend is a brave man who happens to have his own ghosts, but he feels less alone now. He still thinks he’s going to have to act somehow, at some point, because what looked like an attack has turned from an unstable man bursting in a classroom to a full-on hostage situation. 

“Haven’t you heard me? Move the _damned_ table!” Peter commands.

Carlos doesn’t want to turn his back on him, but he has no other option. He motions for TK to move to the other end of the table and, together, they lift the table. Peter kicks the door — it doesn’t really close, Carlos notices, since it’s completely destroyed — and they have to press the table against the wooden frame that’s merely hanging off its hinges. The desk forces the door closed, just like Peter wanted, and when their task is done there, he aims the gun back at them so they back down and end up stumbling next to Alana. Peter tells them to sit down and to be quiet.

The sirens can be heard closer now, and soon enough there’s a voice coming out of a speaker — completely distorted yet carrying out through the air — calling for Peter to lay down whatever weapon he might be carrying and to step out of the school unarmed. Peter shies away from any window; he begins pacing the room, scaring the children even more than they already were.

Carlos takes advantage of that fact to move closer to TK and Alana in an attempt to cover them with his bigger frame. He may not be bulletproof, but he’s not going to risk any chance of TK — or anyone else, for that matter — being shot once again.

“What’s going on?” TK mutters. “Alana, do you know that man?”

“I do,” she whispers back. “He’s my ex-husband. He and I, we—we got divorced a year before—” 

“Keep _quiet_!” Peter screeches, sauntering toward them. “You can only speak if it’s to tell me _where_ Liam is!”

“Peter,” Carlos tries, earning himself three glares — one from Peter who doesn’t like to be interrupted, one from Alana who’s conveying all her fear in her eyes, and one from TK who’s shooting daggers his way. Carlos ignores them and keeps going. “I’m sure there are different ways to approach this subject. Why don’t you put down your gun and we talk?”

“Why should I?” Peter retorts, barking out a laugh that sounds suspiciously like a barely-repressed sob. “ _She_ hasn’t wanted to talk to me in years, and when she finally speaks it’s to tell me Liam died? And she thinks I’ll buy that lie for even a second? She never wanted me to spend time with Liam, she’d do anything to keep him from me!”

Carlos can’t take his eyes off Peter — breaking their eye connection could end catastrophically — but he can feel Alana flinching. He’d assumed as much after the first words Alana and Peter had exchanged; he’d thought that it was probable that they had lost a son and that maybe he was in denial, but this is a completely different stance.

Peter actually thinks his son is alive, and that Alana is keeping him away. 

Carlos feels someone squeezing his arm. He doesn’t need to turn around to know that TK is there for him, trying to reassure him that they will find a solution for this. But Carlos knows better, as he watches Peter pacing the room once again, gun in hand and that bewildered look in his eyes.

Carlos knows that this could take hours, and that nothing ever guarantees them that after all that time, they all walk out of this classroom in one piece.

* * *

They’re trapped in that room for what feels like days. TK subtly checks the clock on the wall opposite them, realizing that they have been inside for three hours now. Since they had been talking to the kids for around half an hour before Peter burst in, they’ve been enduring this situation for two hours and a half. He’s astonished at the children’s resilience — aside from a whimper or a wail here and there, the twenty-one kids have remained silent from the most part. 

Peter has allowed them to move from below their desks to a corner of the room. They’re currently bunched together, looking wearily down at the floor, while Peter moves from the table against the door to the windows. There have been different calls from the police outside, urging him to let his hostages out, asking him to walk out to talk. He hasn’t replied to any of them, but TK can tell he’s been growing more nervous by the minute.

“I’m so sorry,” Alana has taken to whispering every five minutes, rocking back and forth in her seat below the window, sandwiched between Carlos and TK. “I’m so, so sorry.”

TK wants to tell her that it isn’t her fault, but he knows how guilt works. He’s felt it in his bones — he’s felt it when he was shot by Connor, he’s felt it when he woke up after his second overdose, he’s felt it when his father didn’t come home for days after the towers fell. Objectively, he knows that he isn’t to blame — except for the overdose, he’s not going to lie to himself about that — but his mind plays tricks on him whenever he thinks of those events in his life. If only he’d checked before opening the door, Connor wouldn’t have shot. If only he’d told his father that he loved him that morning, Owen wouldn’t have left. If only.

 _If only_ s have never brought him to a good end.

But Alana doesn’t need to hear that she isn’t to blame for this. TK understands that, because he didn’t want to be told that it hadn’t been his fault. Alana needs someone to protect her, and the kids. Alana needs a hero.

It’s either him or Carlos, and TK isn’t a fool — he knows Carlos would never allow anyone but himself to be put in the line of danger. Both their jobs are risky, and they both save lives on a daily basis. But out of the two of them, the only one who can face the other side of a gun every day is Carlos. It’s only logical that, were they plotting to take Peter down — and TK’s sure Carlos is already brooding over it — it would be Carlos the one attempting to do so.

It doesn’t mean TK has to like it.

Carlos proves him right when, merely seconds later when Peter is on his way to the door once again, he begins moving his hands wildly to catch their attention. “Listen to me,” he says in a rush. “I have an idea. I don’t think Peter is really dangerous.” At Alana’s huff, Carlos shoots her a glare. “I believe he really isn’t. From what I’ve gathered, he suffers from PTSD and he’s in denial about your son. I just need you to distract him enough so that I can approach him. We only have one go to try and disarm him. And we don’t really want the police entering here with the kids.”

“I don’t understand why he doesn’t want the kids to go,” Alana mutters.

“It’s a power play,” TK explains, keeping an eye on Peter, who’s now turning around. “No time to explain it. Carlos, don’t do it. _That_ is dangerous.”

“Again, no time to discuss it,” Carlos counteracts. “Alana, I need you to talk to him. He won’t shoot you. But you need to talk to him.”

“About what?” Alana replies, but Peter is already coming back to them so they have to shut up.

“What have I told you about talking? I need silence!” Peter exclaims as he reaches them. He looks down at the three of them, anger and a deep hurt in his eyes, and TK hopes that Carlos is right and he isn’t _that_ dangerous.

Because, no matter whether Peter is dangerous or not, Carlos Reyes is going to play the hero and try to take him down.

* * *

Carlos hopes he has made his point come across when he’s told Alana that he needs her to distract Peter. He doesn’t think Peter is really dangerous — what’s dangerous is him losing control, and Carlos believes that it could happen any moment now if they don’t put a stop to his spiraling, because that’s what his behavior points at.

He’s spiraling because he can’t reconcile a world without war _and_ a world without his son. His mind isn’t functioning properly, and therefore there are aspects of this reality that clash with the world Peter seems to be lost in.

In between sobs and shaky trembles, Carlos has gathered that Alanaʼs son Liam passed away from leukemia four months before. Peter and Alana have been divorced for a year and a half, and during all this time Peter has been supposedly in therapy at a military facility. But Carlos can be completely mistaken — for the whole time that Alana has been muttering their story, Peter has been yelling at them, and Carlos has had his attention split between him and the kids, never forgetting to check in on TK to make sure heʼs doing fine. 

He clearly is, and Carlos allows himself a second to breathe before coming back to the situation at hand. 

Peter is angry at them because they haven't been as quiet as they should have, according to his standards. Carlos believes that Peter isn’t going to shoot them, but the image of the gun in his trembling hands is enough for Carlos to fidget nervously. 

An unstable man can make a mistake. And that mistake can cost someone's life. 

After a few tense minutes while Peter aims the gun once again toward them — thankfully never toward the children — Alana finally stands up on shaky legs once her ex-husband has turned his back to them, resuming his pacing as though he’s going to carve his steps on the ground. “Peter,” she starts. It’s enough to catch his attention.

“I’ve told you to shut up, what are you doing?” he cries out.

“Peter,” she repeats. “Please listen to me. This is important.” Carlos notices that Peter can’t look away from Alana, as though she’s mesmerized him. “It’s about Liam.”

Carlos crosses his fingers in his mind so his plan works out, because they might only have one go at it, and it might be the most dangerous thing he’s done as a police officer in Austin — he has never been involved in a hostage situation with kids before, not once in his career. He looks for TK at the other side of Alana, and when he locks eyes with him Carlos tries to convey everything he's feeling in one glance. He jerks his head toward the kids once, and TK seems to understand because he nods once too. The children are their priority. Carlos begins to subtly sneak his way closer to Peter as Alana keeps talking. Out of the corner of his eye he thinks he sees TK moving to the kids as well. 

“Iʼm sorry you were away when it happened,” she’s saying. “Iʼm sorry I didn't call you sooner. I should have called you.” 

“Just tell me where Liam is,” Peter orders. “I will forgive you if you tell me where he is.” 

“Iʼm sorry things didn't work out in the end for us,” Alana says instead. Carlos can tell Peter is growing ansty. “I should have known that you wouldn't take it well. But I couldn’t stand being with you when you would make a scene every time Liam played a video game on his PlayStation. You were scaring him, just like you're scaring all of us now, Peter. You deserve better, Peter. You need help. Let me help you. Thatʼs all Iʼve ever wanted.” 

“Where is Liam?” Peter insists. 

Carlos sees that his chance to stop this nonsense is becoming slimmer by the minute. He needs to do something, and he needs to do it _now_. 

Peter approaches them once again, this time the gun lowered so he can confront Alana face to face, and Carlos decides that this is his chance. 

He takes a step forward, then another, until he can throw himself at Peter when he has the gun aiming to the floor. Carlos dives for the firearm while attempting to keep Peter under control — it proves to be a difficult feat when Peter fights back. 

They wrestle for a few moments, the air peppered by the children's cries and Alanaʼs shouts and TKʼs warnings, until Carlos hears the sirens outside blasting once again as though the police has decided to finally act. It is the worst that can happen. 

Carlos is distracted temporarily by the sounds and his fingers slide over Peterʼs arm, not grabbing the gun when it was his goal. 

A gunshot pierces the air.

* * *

TK thinks he wonʼt be able to breathe ever again. When Carlos lunged against Peter, he knew what his boyfriend was doing — what Carlos was risking. 

It's one thing to know it. It's another to actually _see_. And a completely different heartbreak to witness Carlos falling down after the gun is fired, dragging Peter to the floor with him, the gun discarded next to them. 

Everything happens in a blur after that. 

The sirens cut off when the gun is fired, and TK feels his attention split between the yells outside warning that there has been at least one shot and the image in front of him — Carlos sliding down to the floor, Peter on top of him, the kids crying and Alana frozen. 

He canʼt move. 

The door bursts open under the force of a battering ram, and a string of Special Ops sweep through, rifles pointing everywhere until they assess the situation and lower them. Two of them reach the heap of flesh and bones and blood that Carlos is part of, and TK wants to move — he really, really _wants_ to — but his feet don't obey him. 

He doesn’t register what unfolds after that. He doesn’t hear the officers checking on them, he doesn’t really _see_ how the kids are rescued, he doesn’t listen to Alana wailing — broken and despaired, raw from fear and memories — as she’s headed outside. He only has eyes for the two men on the floor, surrounded by armed police.

There’s a deep red trickle of blood trailing down onto the floor. 

He canʼt avert his gaze, mesmerized by the color and aghast at the implication.

He canʼt lose Carlos. He has plans for a future. _Their_ future. 

It's only when he hears Juddʼs voice that he snaps out of his trance. He watches as he enters the room, face schooled and demeanor professional, followed closely by Tim and Nancy. TK doesn’t see any traces of his father or the rest, before he realizes his own stupidity — they're all on their day off. 

Then why are Judd and the team here, when they should be across town? 

He watches as Judd moves through the men around Carlos and Peter, ordering them to step back. “I don't care if you want to arrest me too!” he barks. “It’s my duty to save them so you have _someone_ to press charges against!” 

Tim helps him to take Peter off Carlos while Nancy keeps everyone else at a suitable distance. TK stretches his neck to see. There’s a blur of movement and a groan that he knows by heart. 

“Did the kids get out? ” Carlos coughs. “Is anyone hurt?” 

TK can exhale the breath heʼs been holding when he sees Carlosʼ arm lifting, fingers flexing. But Judd cuts his hope short when he allows the Special Ops team to cuff Peter, who's led out of the classroom completely unharmed. 

“Sir,” someone calls out, and TK knows it isn’t anyone who knows him — they would never call him _sir_. “If you're not injured, I need you to get out.” 

TK is glued to the spot when he notices the red hasn't stopped, and it's now coating the floor like a sprint carpet. “I can't,” he says tiredly. “Iʼm not leaving him.” 

Nancy takes pity on him and she motions for him to be allowed into the security circle she has kept around Judd, Tim and Carlos. TK skids next to them, calming instantly when he feels Judd’s steady job and Carlos looking up at him, face contorted in pain but otherwise fine. 

There’s no red on him. 

“The bullet hit his foot,” Tim explains. “Heʼll be fine.” 

“Hurts like a bitch,” Carlos grunts. Judd tuts and swats his hand out of the way when he tries to stop Judd from touching his foot once again. “Judd,” he whines. 

“Almost done,” Judd replies. 

TK watches as they place Carlos on a gurney, and before they wheel him away he grabs Carlosʼ hand and tugs at it, stopping the movement. He’s speaking before he knows what he wants to say. “I almost lost you. Don't ever do that again.” 

“You would have done exactly the same,” Carlos whispers. 

TK knows that, deep inside. They're cut out of the same cloth, an ache in their souls that calls for them to dive straight into danger to save lives. And that's why TK canʼt lose Carlos. 

“Marry me,” he blurts out. “I can't wait any longer. If this is how it's going to be, and I know it is, marry me.” 

Carlos crunches his face at him, looking mildly annoyed, and TK starts to freak out because Carlos isn’t replying. He’s only looking up at him in disbelief, and there’s even a bit of disappointment in Carlos’ face — TK knows it well, from all the times before the solar flares when he fucked up and Carlos had to rebuild himself afterwards.

“Are you serious now?” Judd pipes in. “When heʼs on a gurney, with a bullet in his foot, is that when you choose to propose? Think about timing, city boy!”

“Why don’t you shut your mouth, Judd?” TK barks. “Why are you here, anyway? SHouldn’t you be helping someone?”

“I am helping _someone_!” Judd retorts cheekily. “And for the record, you’ve been here for hours. Time enough for everyone to gather outside. The whole team is here.”

“Then go be with them,” TK mutters grumpily. “I’m sorry. I know you deserve better, Carlos, and I shouldn’t have—” he begins, looking Carlos in the eye, only to stop himself when Carlos draws a finger up to TK’s lips.

“I can’t believe you beat me to this proposal thing,” Carlos complains jokingly. He cringes when a jolt of pain courses through his body, coming from his injured foot that Judd’s twisting now in his attempt to have a better look at it while trying to ignore the mushy conversation around him. “I have a perfect ring home, and I have this whole romantic date where I was going to propose and I—”

TK leans in and kisses Carlos. He can’t believe his luck — he’s got his boyfriend back, and he’s going to be married and this time his fiancé actually wants to marry him — and he doesn’t care who’s watching them. Suddenly, in the middle of the kiss that’s quickly turning dirtier than he wants anyone to witness, TK realizes something. He pulls away and looks down at Carlos sternly.

“You haven’t answered me!”

“Seriously, TK?” both Carlos and Judd groan. 

He laughs, reaching down to lace his fingers with Carlos’, and squeezes. Carlos squeezes back, and that’s all the answer TK needs.

**Author's Note:**

> fun facts i found out while doing research for this fic:
> 
> * mable parkland is the daughter of one of the old 126 members. she shows up at the station along with her mother, and then they're visiting grace together, in canon.
> 
> * widen elementary school exists in austin, and it's close to a real fire station.
> 
> * this is probably not my best work. not the worst either, but not the best, and it shows. i hope that if you've made it this far, you haven't been scared away from my writing forever!


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